Grace (BikeHedonia)

Anyway there's a new blog post up if you want to make yourself a cup of tea and read about me getting my ass absolutely kicked by hard enduro on Valentine's Day. Oh, and one of the guys made a video, which is actually not bad. The wordy stuff is here: https://bikehedonia.wordpress.com/2021/11/17/valentines-day-massacre/ And the video is here:

All of what you say is SPOT ON, particularly this bit about dismantling frameworks created by your parents. In my case, I never even went to school so didn't have any other influences to mediate their influence - except for books. Damn, I read a lot of books

Yeah but who's normal? We are all fucked up in our own ways, and in trying to avoid our own fuckedupedness we fuck up our children in new and creative ways...

Oh, I found the custom pledge button on my patreon, it's at the bottom of this page (after you click on "become a patron" on the home page): https://www.patreon.com/join/bikehedonia? Right at the bottom. Only patreon knows why they wouldn't put it on the first page, it's kind of annoying (because you are right that people should be able to select whatever amount they like) but I don't think I can change it. I will try to link straight through to this page more often though...

Might feel like riding a 450 but doesn't feel like one when it comes time to pick it up haha. Oh my lawd

On Saturday, I lost a friend. Well, I didn't lose him, that implies that I was simply careless and misplaced him, which you ought never to do with your friends. No, he didn't get lost, he died suddenly of pancreatic cancer, much too young. Of course it is natural to live and die and we will all do it, but I have been thinking about him (and am sharing about him here) because his role in my life is fundamentally caught up with motorcycles. He was simply the most kindest man, someone with deep compassion and someone who believed in the dreams of others. He was the CEO of the Black Dog Ride for years, which (I don't know if it exists in the UK) is a big annual charity event which raises money for mental health and depression research. But on a personal level, he was kind to so many of us, and our motorcycling community is much the poorer for losing him. Back when I announced my intention to ride halfway around the world on my own, most people said I was mad, as you'd expect. Peachie immediately understood the dream. He knew that I could do it, and he understood that I needed to do it; he was just thrilled that I was going to live my dream, and do what I needed to do, instead of staying home safely with my demons and our regrets, as so many of us do. When you're trying to make a dream real and most people don't believe in it, the support of a few people like Peachie becomes instrumental in keeping that dream alive. So I will always be grateful to him for that. Before I left on my trip, he gave me a set of spotlights which I wired onto my bike, and which must have now saved my night-blind ass more times that I can count. I always think of him when I switch on my spotties; he has been with me on this adventure the whole way. A man of such deep kindness and compassion - who fostered dreams - I wish him the deepest peace.

Yes, the checkpoint is on the mountain road between Mae Hong Son and Chiang Mai Provinces, and although checkpoints proliferate all through the provinces, this is the only one where I always see the army actively manning it and searching people, apart from at the ones near national borders. (Most checkpoints here are nothing more than a traffic hazard... presumably the soldiers are all out the back make tiktoks.) Primarily they're looking for drugs and other contraband. They just wave you through if you're on a big bike and clearly just out riding (except for when the province is totally closed, which happened last year during the first covid lockdown). They will question people in vehicles, most get waved through but the people who tend to get stopped are the hiluxes loaded with cabbages or hill tribe people on beat up scooters. Mostly they're chill but I have seen a few people taken away to the toilet block to be strip searched, which is kind of chilling when you see three male soldiers taking one scared woman into the bathroom... Moments like that, I'm so conscious of my privilege as a white skinned foreigner who - because I am riding a big bike - is assumed to be relatively rich (and thus possibly important). I might get blamed for a motor vehicle accident I didn't cause, or I might get pulled over by the traffic police hoping to make some tea money by finding I have international licence, but I am extremely unlikely to randomly strip searched in a toilet block on top of a mountain.

Aw thank you so much, I'm so pleased you're enjoying the writing! This makes me really, really happy! Cheers to that librarian streak. I do love the English language. Thank you also, sincerely, for asking straight questions about $$$. I appreciate straight questions, on top of the fact that I appreciate your kind words and supportiveness. I do actually have a patreon account, I just don't promote it much because it's not where I tend to post content (so I wonder if I'm providing subscription value behind the paywall, you know? Would hate to disappoint anyone on that front.) (...And maybe I also just feel awkward about talking about money... I should get over that.) But you make a good point about the subscription structure being super convenient, and my patreon does exist! It's www.patreon.com/bikehedonia . Thanks again for asking the question.

Still knee deep in covid so still hanging out on my mountain in Thailand. Did 250km of the Mae Hong Son Loop yesterday on the CRF450RL. Still running the crappy factory IRC tyres but the roads were clean (for once) so I've got no chicken strips left on my knobbies. Love throwing it through those curves motard style, reliving bad habits learnt on the 690. Gets a little twitchy in the front end if you have to brake suddenly over 90kph though. Stopped at the army checkpoint between Chiang Mai and Mae Hong Son provinces and had a beer with the soldier boys and slapped a sticker on the bike (with owner's permission of course), brand of the devil! Well, a better way to leave my mark on a motorcycle than by sliding it down the road. I have dropped this one off road before (once) but otherwise we have remained resolutely upright. Out with my mate who I talked into buying this farkled 390 duke. Upgraded ecu and full exhaust, first gen, that little bike goes like the clappers. It's a demon. She's running Rosso IIs and is well on her way to the dark side.

correct, cannot brain sorry. I'm talking about the abu dhabi race that just finished

It's the Abu Dhabi race

Oh I mean the latest race in the championship, not Dakar race itself. Sorry it's only 6am here, need more coffee

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Did you see the end of the Abu Dhabi desert challenge?? (not actual dakar, my bad) No fuel stops in the final stage and the leaders started running out of fuel. Walkner ran out 25km short of the finish, Daniel Sanders pushed the bike through sand for the last two kilometres. Can you imagine the frustration.

Oh really, that's awesome news! Post us some pics next time you spot some good ones

I can't help it, ever since I got on a two stroke for the first time earlier this year, I have been lost to the dark side...

I was pretty stunned at first, and then the kids were just hanging out amongst the bones like it was no big thing, and I thought, hey when in Rome...

So, sit down, make yourself a cup of tea: let's talk about Indonesia, my absolute favourite place to ride, ever. In Indonesia, every biker is your bro, every club is your club, everyone's mum is cooking you dinner. Now, when I say Indonesia I don't mean Bali, I mean the other bits. Flores, Sulawesi, Sumatra, Java... places where you show up and everyone asks, "yes, but WHY are you here?" because no madwoman on a KTM ever rocked up to their village before. (Maybe that's a good thing...? Anyway) Anyway highlights - and literally, this is a highlight because the elevation is noticeable, enough to make you chilly. Tana Toraja. Up in the mountain tops of Sulawesi, one of the places with some of the world's most complex, expensive and denialist rituals for dealing with the dead. * * * High in the volcanic mountains of Sulawesi, just scraping the underside of the clouds, is a land for both the living and the dead. In the West we tend to fear our mortality and hide away the corporeal reminders, but in Tanah Toraja I found myself sitting on a cliffside ledge, watching little boys play in front of the skulls of their ancestors. * * * The air cools and the roads narrow as you gain altitude, climbing further up the jagged spine of the island. Signs advertising beer start to appear on the roadside shops and warungs, signposting a transition from a Muslim area to one where the people profess a mix of Christianity and the old beliefs. I have a phone number and a map location. My friend Aditya in Makassar has sent me off northward with an introduction to a friend of his, a fellow biker who lives up here in the mountains. Tony is orang Toraja, and on the hill opposite his home, the ancient village of Kete Kesu houses his ancestors in ornate tombs and ossuaries. Since this is Indonesia, where bikers are family, I have an invitation to stay at Tony's place and my only challenge is finding it. After a few wrong turns, I have success: the rain is just starting to fall as I find Tony and park the bike in front of one of his cousin's houses. Tony's place is built further up the hill - one modern style home in a row of traditional Toraja houses - but the track is too slippery to get the bike up there in the rain. No problem: the bike is safe here. Tony and some of his cousins help me carry my bags up the hill. He is a bachelor, but he lives surrounded by family. It's almost a family compound, with a row of ordinary houses facing a row of traditional meeting houses. Soon I am comfortably installed in a spare bedroom at Tony's place. My damp boots have been set out to dry and I dig into my pack to find the gift that I'm carrying for Tony from Aditya. It's a fabulous orange riding jersey commemorating a ride up the length and breadth of Sulawesi. They had stopped and visited with Tony on their way through Tana Toraja too, and the jersey is a thank you gift. On the back, it says 'TUA' - ostensibly an acronym for 'Together, United, Adventure' but of course 'tua' also means old. It's a cheeky stab at the age of the your average big bike adventure rider, and I love it. I look forward to aging into mine. * * * Now let's shift gears a little - enough of the living - let's talk about the dead. The Toraja people are known for their elaborate funerary rites. It can take years to prepare and complete all the proper ceremonies to lay a relative to rest and release the soul from the body. Until this is done, they are described as sick, and the slowly mummifying body is cared for like a living person. After the massive and elaborate funeral – often years later – the mummified deceased are interred in carved ossuaries clinging to the cliffs and caves that tower over the village. The people go and visit their ancestors there. Gradually the ancestors become bones, skeletons. Over the centuries, wood will disintegrate and bones will spill out. They are sometimes gathered up again, skulls placed in rows; other times, the bones are allowed to remain in place, tangled, distinctly human. Children sit on the cliff ledges, watching Youtube videos on cheap smart phones next to their skeletal ancestors. I walk up the cliff path, and sit for a while. An invited guest. Here at Kete Kesu is where Tony’s relatives lie in rest. His cousin points out the carved likenesses of people who have passed, and invites me to take photographs if I want. My western upbringing tells me that this is not proper – to photograph the bones of someone else’s relatives. But here, it seems that people feel differently. Everything has the meaning you give it. When I go to leave, I am forcibly accosted by a Javanese visitor who seems to think that I'm far more interesting to photograph than any of the funerary relics. No worries; this is how I pay my social taxes here, I figure: they can take as many photos as they like. But before I leave, I take one more photo of my own - a photo of my darling, my sweetheart, in all her dualsport glory.

Done, I shall continue spouting about the nice riding weather (sleet? is that what happens when the temperature drops being 20C?? sounds nasty) Also happy birthday for 31 December before everyone forgets

I know what you mean about mixing fuel for EC300s and how they go like the clappers... I forgive them everything, including the inconvenience, just for the power-to-weight ratio. My friends over here are all getting around on KLX250s, no power and I can't lift the damn things. Still, sometimes EC300s get sleepy too...

I am just going to take a moment to appreciate the glory which is naming a motorcycle "Hustler". Ah yes.

Thank you very much - in that case, with your permission, I shall continue to spam you with stories

Ah ha ha interesting, a lot of the commodities being exported from Thailand were not known for being sweet smelling - the 70s would have been the last gasp of local opium rather than that simply in transit from Afghanistan and Myanmar, and that has a nasty ammonia smell... I don't know about the ganja, I always reckon that's an acquired taste. And let's not talk about the shrimp paste haha. But shady allusions aside, smells are so important in Thailand. The PEOPLE smell wonderful. Instead of kissing like Westerners, your Thai sweetheart is more likely to put their lips against your cheek and inhale your scent deeply. It's initially disconcerting but quite sensuous.

Maximum result for minimum energy expenditure... when these guys ride enduro you see the difference between them and the guys who have never ridden trials. One group rides smoothly, in control, minimum energy; the others are smashing obstacles and making themselves tired...

Hello glorious netizens, It has been suggested to me that you might not all be completely bored if I regaled you with tales of my misadventures. There are a lot of them, and they all involve motorcycles. I set off to ride around the world on my KTM 690 Enduro nearly 5 years ago; I thought it might take me 18 months, anyway here I am still stuck in a jungle in Thailand. Five years ago I was five years younger and looked (and felt) 5 years older after a brief but prematurely aging career in the law. That's where it all started, and here is the very old video that goes with it: Anyway, if you would like to hear further dispatches from the road, let me know. You can also catch my blog at www.bikehedonia.wordpress.com and my daily updates on www.facebook.com/bikehedonia should you be so inclined. Cheers, Grace